Asleep at the game.
“I will not be jet-lagged!”
“I will not be jet-lagged!”
I kept repeating this mantra in the hope that the force of will would change reality. One early night for recovery might be acceptable but requiring two, come on. Having made the others come with me to the World Cup qualifying match that was on in Riga that Wednesday it was particularly embarrassing that I couldn’t stop myself from nodding off in the second half. Maybe the game had something to do with it, Greece vs. Latvia is hardly the most compelling matchup. Especially Greece, though they probably played the most attractively I’ve seen. Their first goal was very nice with a superbly floated curling cross from the right wing met perfectly just outside the 6yd box by a grateful striker’s head. The whole movement made even better by our seats which were right down by the left hand corner flag giving the perfect angle to see the cross.
Greek Corner
Afterwards we met up with Australia Joe and his strange English friend to go to the Sky Bar in some hotel along with lots of overly made up types, we fit in so well. In order to make an effort on the blending in front I ordered a black balsam, a Latvian concoction of over 200 herbs mixed together with pure vodka and grass picked on 46 different days of the year. I’ll just say that the view of the old town was much more enjoyable than a flavour somewhere between the malt you licked off a spoon as a child and liquorice. English friend really was a strange companion. Sitting for long periods before suddenly sitting forward to spout some semi incomprehensible quasi philosophical statement over the top of the ongoing conversation before just as suddenly disappearing back against the leather cushions of the booth.
Being a considerate hosteler is always difficult when early morning departures are involved. No matter how ready you get the night before it always takes more rustling that you would like to get out the door. The difference between the Riga we were predominantly in, a quite pretty old town, and the rest is almost unbelievable. Take the part of Christchurch inside the four avenues, widen the river, narrow down the streets,add medieval buildings and some monuments, that’s the size of where we mainly were. Cross out of any of that and find row upon row of Stalinist era apartment blocks which make the Russian quarter which we had thought of as downtrodden look more than OK. No wonder nothing much further away than a twenty minute walk from the Freedom Monument is mentioned in any of the literature.
One thing that had really struck me flying in was the lack of cultivation of the city’s hinterland. Even right on the outskirts most of the fields looked more like unused swampland than farms. This was confirmed even more on the bus north to Tallinn where it was more likely to see boggy fields skirted by unrepaired fences containing nothing apart from the odd dilapidated barn than livestock or crops. Especially strange as this is leading into autumn which I would have thought was harvest time.
Song for the bus: Kylie Minogue – The One.
Tags: bar, bus trip, football, Latvia, Riga, Travel
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